


Hard Candy

by Abyssiniana



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Gangbang, M/M, Multiple Partners, Oral Sex, Orgy, Pre-pre-Kerberos, Rough Sex, before Adam, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 14:26:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssiniana/pseuds/Abyssiniana
Summary: It was supposed to be just a party, but bad decisions were becoming a constant in Takashi Shirogane’s life. The gears of fate had his mouth pressed against another, his tongue tasting low quality beer and what could be leftover saltiness of the snack potato chips they had had upstairs. A bold hand cupped his crotch over the fabric of his uniform, feeling the hard-on caused by the friction.— a sequel toSesame Syrup!





	Hard Candy

**Author's Note:**

> Commission for [Agi](https://twitter.com/koliveith) on Twitter! Thank you so much for this opportunity!  
> And shout out to [dearest Oli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidkickflip/pseuds/cryptidkickflip) for such a quick and awesome beta reading!

“Is that…?!” A cadet gasped, proceeding to choke on the small portion of cafeteria mac’n’cheese he had regretfully managed to shove into his mouth. After coughing the infamous gooey meal into a napkin, his eyes glued to the smartphone screen his friend held in front of him. A video played in the device, sound muted, of course. They weren’t  _ that _ suicidal. Watching a porno in the middle of the canteen had to be a whole new level of fucked up, so the four friends tucked onto each other to make sure no one would catch them breaking all sorts of rules that had to be written down somewhere.

 

“No, it can’t be…” The third young man bit his lip, his voice no louder than a whisper. He had to push his friend to the side so he could get a better view of the scene:

 

The golden boy of the Galaxy Garrison, Takashi Shirogane himself, getting fucked by whoever walked into the hotel room in the setting. His eyes were blindfolded by a black bandana, at least in the beginning of the video, and he sucked the cock before him with a hunger never seen before while another stranger ate his ass. The duration of the video extended for a good hour and each passing second promised the most intense orgasm they had ever had in their lives.

 

“I’m telling you, it  **is** him. He says something at like, minute seventeen or so, if his face doesn’t convince you, you can’t mistake his voice!” The wielder of the smartphone — who may have stumbled across the golden mine all teenage boys and girls of the Galaxy Garrison yearned to find in the gay section of  _ RedTube _ — swore, tapping the timeline on the screen to a few minutes ahead, where a different guy handled the Japanese man a little harsher than the previous two. “Check out this part.”

 

Oh, they only wished they had the sound on. But just looking at the way Shiro’s mouth popped open around a thick black cock before it was aimed to his already abused entrance, they could hear the noises in their minds and they were just _ deliciously filthy _ .

 

“Takashi Shirogane likes getting pounded like that? Holy damn.” The cadet laughed and took a step back as if taking a deep breath would help him swallow the view. He hoped his boner wasn’t too obvious under the thick layer of the uniform fabric. “Fuck, I wish that were me.”

 

“It is pretty hot, right?” Guy number four agreed with a grunt.

 

“Tom, dude, send me the link, I need to take a better, more private look at that—”

 

“Shut up, he’s coming in!” One of them warned, patting his friend’s shoulder. The party was silenced immediately, their eyes temporary falling over the dreadful meals before them, the phone’s screen flipped down on the surface of the circular table.

 

Poking at the food, cleaning their mouths on a used napkin, sipping from an empty bottle of water — they unanimously gave it a few seconds before daring to look up again. Takashi Shirogane had passed by them without noticing, or simply not acknowledging them, as he engaged in a conversation with Lieutenant Keller, the Galaxy Garrison’s Advanced Cosmology professor. As if the subject wasn’t hard enough by itself, the man was a royal pain in the ass himself; but the way he smiled at Takashi Shirogane, his palm guiding him at the end of his back, almost made him seem kind. 

 

It was rather odd that they were standing with their trays in hand, not quite moving to the line to get their lunches, nor stepping out of the way for anyone else to pass. When the teacher leaned in, however, the boys tensed up their spines, breaths being held in silent speculation.

 

Whatever the Lieutenant had whispered a little too close to Shiro’s ear had him reacting with a private chuckle when the hand on his back moved south to grab his buttcheek. Was it common for Takashi Shirogane to be hit on by officers in higher ranks? The gang was only half surprised; it was almost a given when you were a star within a whole facility, and looked as handsome as Shiro did. There was no question about his talent; anyone who ever had the honor of sitting with him for a few minutes and hear him talk about space became aware that the hours spent in the Garrison library weren’t just to give or deliver a blowjob in the fake privacy of tall shelves. He knew his shit, and if he was ever meant to be anywhere, it would be up there, among undiscovered worlds and unimaginable galaxies.

 

His grades were fair and proportionate to the amount of knowledge he cultivated and he was a natural at the flight simulator, despite his success being often objected with jealousy. He probably didn’t know, but he had an active fanbase on Twitter complete with sneaky photos taken with low quality cell phone cameras, screenshots of whatever he barely posted in his own account and even his own corner of anonymous online hate.

 

It probably crossed the cadets’ minds, at least once, the worst case scenarios if they were to make Takashi Shirogane’s secret night-life… _ not so secret _ anymore.

 

One of them gulped dryly and bit his lip. As if they would want anyone else to know, as if they wouldn’t find a way to download this video and have a copy of it on every single USB device they owned.

 

The professor put his tray away and Shiro moved to join the rapidly moving queue for his mac’n’cheese, but not without a flirtatious wink.

 

“Am I seeing things.” Cadet number two whispered to himself; his friends didn’t know if he was talking about the adultery they had just witnessed or the video Tom had found, but it fit both situations equally.

 

“... I can’t look at him the same way.” One of the cadets admitted, receiving a few agreements in the form of sighs, or mute nods.

 

“I wonder if he’ll show up at the party.” One of them prompted, chin held up by his wrist as he watched the Golden Boy; he was a beam of sunshine towards the cooks, who saluted him back with a smile of their own and gave him an extra dessert without him having to beg for it.

 

Takashi Shirogane… maybe he would be up for a little fun, the Friday that was to come.

 

* * *

 

It was supposed to be just a party. No one was quite sure of what they were celebrating but anything at all was enough of a motive to gather all of the Galaxy Garrison’s Bachelor and Master classes in someone’s empty house after a long week of exams, and drink cheap alcohol to the sound of bad music. There was dancing, keg stands, beer pong, vodka roulette, vomit all over the bathroom tile, random sex in a bedroom that should have been previously locked, and embarrassing selfies uploaded in real time to the little eternity of  _ Instagram _ and  _ Facebook _ .

 

It was supposed to be just a party, but bad decisions were becoming a constant in Takashi Shirogane’s life. The gears of fate had his mouth pressed against another, his tongue tasting low quality beer and what could be leftover saltiness of the snack potato chips they had had upstairs. A bold hand cupped his crotch over the fabric of his uniform, feeling the hard-on caused by the friction.

 

The party itself had long since died out in the early hours of dawn, with passed out cadets and Uber rides back to the facilities or their homes, but Shiro wasn’t ready to go back just yet.

 

In a way, his night was only getting started.

 

“You’re so fucking hot,” his colleague — whose name he probably knew from the classes they had together but didn’t quite remember — whispered against his mouth, before resuming the sloppy mess of drool and teeth that was their kiss. “Been wanting to fuck you since I laid eyes on you—”

 

Shiro chuckled lowly, knowing fairly well that the guy was only delusional, rambling and tripping over syllables. “Sure,” he might have muttered, words chased with the other’s tongue, his body compressed between the intoxicated cadet and the wall behind him.

 

The upper part of his uniform was tugged on to expose his white undershirt, hasty hands feeling the volume of his pecs and the definition of his abs; the guy seemed to approve, judging from the grunt that dragged up his throat.  _ You’re perfect _ , he heard,  _ so bloody perfect. _

 

The praises were heavy on his ears, but faint in heart; nothing he hadn’t heard before from different people in different occasions, but the truth of the matter was counterfeit. Perfection; the more Shiro strived for it, the further it slipped from his hands. He still appreciated the words and said something of equal loose complemental value back.

 

His pants were pulled until the middle of his thighs, the belt still pressing the flesh there, as his partner for the night sank to his knees, salivating at the cock exposed before him.

 

Shiro had had better blowjobs — less slob, more dedication — but it didn’t really matter; his cock was hard and his heart was racing at the view, his fingers carding over blond locks and holding the other’s head down in the rhythm he so wished. The back of his head hit the wall behind him and he groaned, the heat of the low light from the neon wall decor piece dusting faint pinks over his skin.

 

When he opened his eyes again, he was met with a figure by the staircase. Someone who had come down to the basement to look for his friend. Technically, the party host labelled the whole of “downstairs” as off-limits, but a small hastily written post-it note meant very little for someone who wasn’t willing to read.

 

The second guy wasn’t put off by the sight he was met with, Shiro noted, licking his dry lips and palming at his crotch.

 

“Hey, is that asshole down there? I need my car keys to get you guys home!” A third voice came from up the stairs, and the lack of an answer drove another two pairs of footsteps down. The cadet on his knees peeked over his shoulder and laughed breathlessly in a sense of achievement.

 

“The fucktard  _ actually _ did it,” one of them whispered to the others with amusement, shaking his head, “he’s got Shiro right where he wanted him.”

 

There were several paths this situation could take; either the friends forget what they’ve seen and leave after they got the key they seemed to need, or they have to take Tom away with them and it didn’t seem to be fair to ask them to wait while he got fucked. Blue balls were the last thing Shiro needed after the promise of coming  _ at least _ once.

 

Or...

 

“Are you boys just going to stand there?” The courage hit him like a kick in the gut, making him spill the invitation with a smirk he didn’t control.

 

Guy number one returned to his cock with a freshened motivation, and Shiro made himself sound louder on purpose, a thrill lifting every hair in his body to see the other three cadets shifting where they stood. He gestured for them to come closer, grey eyes half-lidded.

 

Soon he had a bulge rubbing on the side of his thigh and a hot breath mouthing at his neck on the other side. Hands tested the waters of his body, following the tides traced by muscle and soft skin, worshipping him like a museum piece without the “no touch” policy. He did some groping of his own, fingers running up and down the new additions to the adventure, hips slowly thrusting into a warm mouth. One of the new hands moved further down his cock to massage his balls and he let out a shaky moan at the contact.

 

Only one of them hesitated and stayed behind, face clogged up in all shades of red with the most timid expression, if Shiro had ever seen one. He smiled at the brunet, who shakily pressed down on his lap, as if trying to conceal his erection, glancing up the stairs every second or so, looking out for the possibility of getting caught by the party host or someone else. 

 

It was rather adorable, considering the situation. Shiro smiled as tenderly as he could manage with three men all over him, eyes locking with shy blue ones. “Come,” He urged in a knowing whisper; because he knew, Shiro could see how much he wanted to touch him. To taste him. To  _ fuck _ him. It was written in the way the cadet bit his lip, the way his hands shook around the fabric of his pants, the impatient bouncing of his leg. “Come to me.”

 

The kid audibly gulped; had he a tail, it would be between his shaky legs as he walked to Shiro like a well behaved puppy. Untangling himself from the arms of the guy number four, the Golden Boy reached forward, capturing the shy one’s chin between his thumb and pointing finger, tugging him close until they could savor each other’s breaths. The kiss was slow and unrequited only until the kid decided to open his mouth, a mess of shaky breaths and quivering lower lip.

 

Had that been his first? A sense of conquest made Shiro press further, tongue brushing in, the kid surrendering to what he had to offer. Shiro cupped his dick over the tent of his pants, feeling a thick, promising volume.

 

Man, did he  _ need _ something like this.

 

The shy one took the other’s place at Shiro’s side, fingertips barely touching, breath hitching as they kissed again.

 

He should really ask them their names, he considered, but just as he managed to break the kiss for air, he had two boys battling over his cock, one focusing on the base as the other teased the tip with a thick tongue.  _ To fuck with it, he wouldn’t memorize them anyway. _ A groan vibrated in his throat at the sight, just as his jaw was grabbed to turn his face to meet another kiss. He was revered with two pairs of lips and a hint of teeth that made him shiver, as two fingers rubbed and pressed at his entrance, testing the waters and anticipating just what they could do to wreck them.

 

_ Well, he couldn’t fucking wait. _

 

Shiro was shoved down to his knees and offered no resistance to the cock that was guided into his mouth, tasting of musk and sweat and the frenzied need of a held back relief, the cackling of belt buckles being meddled with and both his hands curling around two girthy members. That was a lot to coordinate with — wrists rolling, mouth working, throat tightening at the invasion, eyes framing the jerking of the only cock he couldn’t reach. His black hair was tugged on, hips rocking into his mouth too much,  _ too deep _ — but his name wasn’t Takashi Shirogane if he couldn’t handle the four of them at once.

 

He sucked with persevering determination, cheeks hollowing around it, tongue flickering and devouring. His lips parted with a pop, tongue sticking out to lick at the underside. There was a bit of comfort to be found in cock sucking; Shiro enjoyed it thoroughly. titanium-colored eyes locked with another pair of a color he couldn’t distinguish in the low light of the game room, a hand on his hair, perhaps because he kept his mind and senses busy enough to not think of darker matters. 

 

With the minor dissipation, his adept mouth was surprised with the sudden sour release of someone who probably ate too much meat and dairy products. The shy one apologized a few times in a row for cumming without a warning, only assured that it was fine when Shiro bobbed his Adam’s apple and showed him his tongue, the warm cum gone down his throat.

 

“My turn,” One of the guys — the first one who approached him that night — demanded, when his friend stepped back to catch his breath and with a tilt of his head Shiro welcomed a shorter, however thicker volume into his mouth. Shiro learned with practice to juggle his attention between the three; he may not know their names but by the end of their little adventure he would be able to tell them apart by the taste of their cocks alone. He jerked two while getting his mouth fucked by one, eyes rolling back, “Fuck, that’s amazing…”

 

The breath was kicked out of him as his head was unawarely pushed down onto the guy’s cock, drool snaking out of the corner of Shiro’s mouth. He coughed riotously around the volume, his nose scrunched against dark pubes, tapping the guy’s thigh in urgency, before he managed to pull himself off of the grip, panting and gasping for air. As an automated reaction, he squeezed the shaft, causing his partner to flinch and squeak.

 

“Don’t push it.” He warned, holding murderous eye contact in the holster for as long as it took for his colleague to nod in agreement. “I tell you to stop, you stop. Understood?”

 

“Sorry,” he excused, “Got excited...”

 

The glare lasted for another beat before he released his hold on the man’s dick and moved on to the next, open mouthed and eyes. Almost tenderly he fondled the second guy’s balls, dragging his tongue down to tease it.

 

“You look so pretty… Just like I imagined.” One of them said, voice coated in honey and deluded worship as a tear from before was wiped from his eye. Praises of equal adoration poured right into his ears in multichannel mode, the hunger translated into the form of possessive touches, the spit on his chin licked away by the same man who pulled him back to his feet and guided him further into the basement.

 

The low neon hit him with haze, vision blurry as to just barely recognize the shapes of the pool table he was pushed against, a faux zebra skin tapestry under his boots, a dart game hung on the wall, another mouth seeking his. There was a bar at the end of the room, untouched, the bottles were exposed like museum art pieces as if they were part of a crystal collection; the party was upstairs, but there was no way drinks of that caliber were made to be wasted on frat parties.

 

Coming to think of it, he should have brought a glass of whatever kind of low quality beer was being served upstairs, his mouth was kinda dry. Kissing guy number... whichever guy that was, with a tongue tasting like the appetizer chips he had had in the party felt a little like sandpaper.

 

“I wanna fuck you...” It was so honestly said, dragging a low moan from Shiro against his thirsty mouth.

 

“No, let me—” Someone else interrupted, getting in the way.

 

The dumb bickering might have gone on for a while without any type of valid argument, but it was the shy one who moved forward to kidnap Shiro into a little disassociating moment; there was a different tongue kissing him and clothing pushed out of the way, a pair of hands grabbing him from the backside before urging him to turn. The rail wasn’t the most comfortable place to be bent over, the pressure on his hip bones dragging a shaky breath out of him, but it didn’t take long until he had other things to focus on. Namely, a mouth on his ass, licking at the entrance and tasting the rawness that had been toyed with by a pair of fingers just minutes prior.

 

It was sloppy and inexperienced but the elasticity of his entrance gave in just enough with the amount of playing he had been doing on his own in the privacy of his bedroom. The men behind him might have switched, or merely taken a break to slip on a condom — good thing the pretentious bunch remembered to bring quite a few in their bags — but it didn’t take long until he felt a head nudging its way inside him.

 

That must have been a first for the shy boy, but he probably watched enough porn to figure out that he needed some spit in the lack of anything better to assure a smoother friction.

 

Once it settled in a more pleasant motion, Shiro didn’t hold back or bothered to hide his moans. He knew what these guys liked, and the louder he could voice his pleasure, the better. 

 

“Hurry up, kid, I wanna have him too.” Someone said.

 

The most impatient of the group climbed up to the billiard table, on his knees; he settled in front of Shiro, almost gently lifting his chin so that his cock would be at the level of his mouth, as the other two were content in just watching, stroking their hard lengths and occasionally reaching to either pull his hair out of the way or to hold his buttcheeks open to ease the guy’s way in. The one above him grabbed him by the hips, skin slapping on skin with each thrust settling the rhythm on which he bobbed his mouth around the dick before him.

 

The boy came relatively fast, filling the condom and shaking in utter overwhelmingness. Someone ought to help him sit down but Shiro didn’t have the time to say it before someone else claimed the vacant spot behind him.

 

“A-Ah!” He whined just barely, as the member in his mouth was replaced, the side of his face patted repeatedly as the cock was pressed against the inner side of his cheek. His ass was fucked hard and his throat would undoubtedly end up sore, his nails dragging on flesh and then fabric. 

 

“Shit, that’s fucking amazing…” The guy said right by his ear, a large hand forcing Shiro’s head to lay flat against the dark blue baize of the table. “You feel so good, Jesus fuck—”

 

There was something about the rawness of the rougher way he was being handled from behind that made his dick leak, his eyes roll back. Shiro was not new to the concept of having his hole abused but it was a whole new experience to be busy on all ends. A cock in his mouth, another in his hand, his ass being stretched by the second man who buried himself so deep into him that night (and hopefully not the last).

 

_ Move _ , he heard, the words not directed to him, and next thing he realized he had been turned around to face the ceiling, his back burnt by the felt-like fabric as he was tugged closer to the edge of the table. The new position felt a little too intimate, his eyes meeting in the fake affection of their closeness with the bounce of their bodies. He said nothing, however, each thrust a hot stake cutting through him.

 

“Gonna make you cum,” the brunet promised, and Shiro closed his eyes just so he wouldn’t have to look at him. “ _ Gonna make you cum and beg for more— _ ”

 

They each had taken their turn in him, as filthy as that thought sounded in Shiro’s head, but they wouldn’t be done until they had a taste of the Golden Boy. The touches all over his body glorified each inch of him — his nipples were flickered by someone’s tongue, his cock being stroked as another rested in his mouth in a half-hard haze, his entrance fucked so  _ so  _ **_good and deep and crude_ ** _ , holy fuck, Shiro was cumming _ —

 

His whole body reverberated with the quake of his orgasm, muscles twitching, breath hitching, stars aligning in a less than meaningful way just for the sake of things momentarily falling into a good place. The pink neon faded to black for a few seconds until a chuckle erupted from his throat.

 

“Tell me you guys ain’t done yet.”

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until the sky was painted in light pink watercolors of a night that had barely dragged the day in just yet that Shiro left the house. His head was pulsing, eyelids heavy, ears buzzing with a song that had long since been silenced in the loud speakers of the party. His whole body was numb, craving the fake comfort of the Garrison’s thin mattresses and low quality duvets. He only needed a ride to get him off the city suburbs and back to the desert of the arid Arizona landscape.

 

He ignored a few notifications — six or seven texts from his concerned roommate Adam who had lost him somewhere in the middle of the party and didn’t find him when he returned to their shared quarters, another message announcing a promotion at the local pizza place (two for the price of one, that was something to consider in a few hours) and a few notifications on his social media, photo tags, likes and comments.

 

He scrolled through his contacts on his low battery smartphone. It was a relatively long list, but his thumb didn’t stop the movement until he reached the letter Z; it would have kept going if there was anyone he ask for help, but even as he swiped in reverse...

 

There was no one he could call.

 

The cynical laughter was bitter, stinging on his throat as tears pierced his eyes. Shiro wiped them away before they had the chance to reflect the first few rays of sun coming from the city. All those people, from A to Z, from the base and Plath City, from past and present, from the sheets of someone’s bed to the bathroom stalls of a bar downtown, and he didn’t feel like he could ask any of those men to pick him up and get him back on Garrison grounds. The guys he had had a pretty good time with had long since left, and everyone else in the house was passed out in some corner either due to exhaustion or alcoholic coma.

 

_ There was no one he could call. _

 

Seconds before the screen lost its brightness and succumbed to the long hours of idle sustainability, the device shook with one last notification. Six in the morning save for a few seconds, the name Holt, M., and the preview of the full text which read:

 

_ “They’re live, buddy! _ ”

 

If anyone else had sent that message, Shiro would have frowned in confusion; they could have meant a video game stream was live, or some show he wanted to watch on Netflix had finally popped up in the app. But coming from Matthew Holt, it could only mean one thing.

 

Shiro looked up at the half-night, half-morning sky, to the immensity of infinities that laid beyond the atmosphere, yet undiscovered. As a child that was where he saw his future; was he about to let a degenerative disease take the stars away from him?

 

He got up from the sidewalk, adjusting his shirt at the hem before deciding to walk all the way back to the Garrison. Once he’d find himself within the facilities, he would send in his application for the mission with no official launch date for another five years or so, and he would be the chosen pilot for it. History would go down with his full name on the footnote.

 

_ Kerberos was his chance to do something great. Damn right he was going to take it. _


End file.
